


Volcano Day

by Elwyne



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:44:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyne/pseuds/Elwyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heading for Mardi Gras, Rose and the Doctor instead land on a snow-capped peak and encounter the evil Winter King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volcano Day

"Doctor, I'm pretty sure this isn't New Orleans."

"What?" The Doctor poked his head out from the TARDIS door and looked over Rose's shoulder. "Just because of a little snow?"

"And the mountains."

"Mountains shmountains. Can't you hear that? It's Mardi Gras!"

Rose listened. The sounds of revelry drifted on the thin chill air: shouted laughter, pounding drums, music. Firecrackers whistled and burst over the next ridge, raining colorful sparks on the valley beyond. Rose zipped up her sweatshirt and shoved her hands deep into the pockets.

"Right. Come on, then."

It certainly wasn't New Orleans. Blue-white snow glittered like diamonds in the last rays of the setting sun, crunching underfoot as they followed the noise. Beyond the valley, a single towering peak stood stark against the mist-strewn sky. Rose shivered.

"Where are we really, Doctor?"

"It doesn't look much like the Gulf Coast, does it?"

"More like the Swiss Alps. Is that the Matterhorn?"

"Shouldn't think so. For one thing, the Matterhorn's not a volcano."

"A what?" Rose stopped in her tracks. "That thing's a volcano?"

"Can't you feel it?" He bounced on his toes. "And that's not mist around that peak up there, that's steam. It's a good sign, though. Steaming volcanoes don't generally erupt."

"Generally?"

"Come on!" The Doctor grabbed her hand, and together they ran up the top of the ridge and down the other side.

 

"Master." The robotic voice grated, unused to speech.

"What is it? Did you find one?" The fat old man sat up in his overstuffed armchair. His gray beard trailed down his chest, brushing his knees as he leaned forward to peer into the viewer the robot offered. It showed the Festival crowd dancing in the streets; dark heads tilted toward the sky, brown faces swathed against the cold in scarves and hats of brilliant color. The old man smiled.

"This one, Master," the robot intoned. The image in the viewer shifted, zooming in on a small group of celebrants. A boy with a thick mass of ebony curls gamboled like a marionette, leaping up and spinning in the air. Landing, he took the hands of a delicate old mother and twirled her around like a girl of seventeen. Laughter danced in the old woman's eyes.

"Oh yes, he'll do nicely. That one for certain."

"Yes, Master."

The old man started to lean back in his chair when something made him stop. The curly-headed boy had left the old mother and seized a stranger, a tall pale man with faded hair and drab clothes. The boy and the stranger twirled, laughing, then separated, revealing a vision between them.

"Stop!"

The image froze. The old man leaned forward, reaching out to brush the screen with clumsy fingertips. His breath clouded the screen.

"That one," he murmured. "Bring me that one."

The face in the viewer was a girl's, with shining dark eyes, pale cheeks, and impossible golden hair.

 

The village filled the tiny valley, and the people filled the village. Every street was packed with joyous dancing bodies, white teeth bright in dark smiling faces, vivid clothes enlivening the growing dark. Rose felt warm hands grab her, spin her, dancing feet pulling her and the Doctor deeper into the crowd. She soon forgot the cold and strangeness of the place and lost herself in gaiety.

One spin landed her back in the Doctor's arms. "You still have no idea where we are, do you?" she gasped, grinning.

"I'm not even sure we're on Earth."

"Not on Earth? But -" Once again she was torn away, to dance briefly with a curly-haired boy with mischievous green eyes, then an elfin girl with olive dimples, then an old man with jet-black cheeks lost in a mass of snow-white curls.

"No idea," said the Doctor. A frail old woman took Rose's place in his arms. "Would you mind telling me where we are?" he asked her.

The woman's pale eyes widened, her smile froze. Then she was gone, replaced by a young man so much like Mickey, for an instant the Doctor forgot himself. Then the young man spun away, and a girl took his place, a girl with amber eyes and thick dark hair that fell loose past her waist.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor." The Doctor smiled his widest. "What's your name?"

"Elena." The girl batted her lashes.

"Nice to meet you, Elena. Would you mind telling me - "

But Elena was gone. The Doctor danced with an old man, a pair of twins, an awkward boy bearing the spots of adolescence, a motherly woman with a wide warm smile and several missing teeth, a man with no hair at all on his shiny bronze head, a heavily pregnant woman, a man with a crushing grip, a reedy old woman who turned him as if he weighed nothing, on and on as the music played and the fireworks danced against the indigo night sky.

 

The crowd had thinned and the dancers dispersed, taking with them their color and their warmth. The Doctor picked his way among lost gloves, discarded bottles, the last dawdling merrymakers staggering toward home. "Rose?" he called. "Rose, where are you?"

There was no answer. He fiddled with his screwdriver till he found a light, and cast it around the emptying street. "Rose? What have I always said about wandering off?"

"You are a stranger here?" The Doctor turned, following the voice to a gaunt old woman huddling in the shelter of a wall. Her eyes were a milky blue, almost white against her copper skin, and silver strands of hair escaped her crimson cap.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am." The Doctor smiled. "I'm called the Doctor. I'm looking for my friend Rose. She's about so high, all pink and yellow - "

"Mourn her, Doctor," the old woman rasped. "She is Chosen."

"What do you mean, Chosen?"

"You tempted Fate, arriving here on Festival night. Your Rose is Chosen by the Winter King. Her blood will sate the Mountain and protect us from its wrath."

"Oh, now, I don't think -"

The old woman pointed, one long finger in a bright yellow glove. The Doctor followed her gesture. The lone mountain loomed on the horizon, glowing in the light of twin crescent moons. On its lower slopes, not far above the village, distant torchlight flickered on a structure of fine white stone.

"What is that place?" the Doctor asked.

But the old woman was gone.

 

Rose woke to the sound of weeping. The stone beneath her smelled of ancient dust, and the damp air chilled her to the bone. Dizzily she sat up and peered into the darkness.

"Hello? Someone there?"

The weeping stopped. Nearby something metal scraped over stone. She inched forward, feeling her way blindly; then her hand met the cold steel bars of a cage.

"Is anyone there?" she called.

"Hush, you," a male voice hissed.

"Who are you? What is this place?"

"Are you dense? You've been Chosen. Now shut up."

"Marn, stop," said a woman's voice.

"You too," said Marn. "And you as well," he added as the weeping resumed.

"What do you mean, Chosen?" asked Rose.

The scraping sounded again, links of chain moving on the stone floor. "You really are dense," Marn muttered with incredulity.

"My name's Rose," said Rose. "Rose Tyler. I came here with my friend the Doctor. We're travelers. We only came here for the Festival."

"Fools," Marn hissed.

"I'm sorry, Rose," said the woman. "But Marn is right. Mourn your friend now; you will not see him again."

"Please tell me," said Rose, with growing fear, "what is going on?"

 

The white stone temple shone against the mountain's roots, firelight flickering on its polished facade. Twelve marble steps rose from the packed-snow road to the temple's shadowed entryway. The Doctor climbed.

Inside, a pinkish light glowed from deep within the glossy walls. On an altar in the center of the room, great gouts of steam rose from a broad brass bowl. Beyond the steam a shadow moved.

"Hello? Anyone at home?"

"Tis a poor night to visit this place." The voice beyond the altar was a rich tenor of indeterminate sex. "The Mountain's children ought by now to be in their beds. The Chosen have need of their prayers."

"Right, see," said the Doctor, "that's the thing. It seems my friend was Chosen tonight."

The shadow shifted. "You have my deepest sympathy."

"Why's that? Where is she?"

The figure moved again, peering at him through the steam. The Doctor stood waiting, hands in pockets, until a human form stepped around the altar into view. Tall and slender as the Doctor himself, the figure had midnight-dark skin, high sharp cheekbones, and sparse white hair gathered in a knot at the base of its skull. Amorphous white robes hung loosely over a cadaverous frame, revealing much of the aged and sexless body beneath.

"You are a stranger," it said.

"I'm the Doctor. We just dropped in, travelers you know. But my friend's gone missing. I need her back."

The figure gazed for a long moment, its liquid eyes drinking him in. "Your friend is Chosen, Doctor. She will be given to the flame, and her sacrifice will keep my people safe."

"Oh, no it won't," said the Doctor. "If I don't get her back, there's nothing in the Universe that can keep your people safe from me."

 

"Sacrifice?" Rose gasped.

"It's just a story," said the woman, whose name was Jaz. "He doesn't really toss people into the volcano."

"That's a relief," said Rose.

"Not unless you'd rather be a slave," Marn snorted. "The Mountain would be a boon."

"No thank you," said Jaz. "My grandmother tells tales of the last time the Mountain burned. I'd rather this life, than the flames."

"Then you're a fool as well," said Marn. "Just wait until he puts you in his Machine. Then you'll beg for the flames."

Jaz said nothing. The weeper began again.

"Can't you run away?" said Rose.

There was no answer. Chains clinked in the darkness.

"Well, can't you?"

"We don't dare," said Jaz.

"He controls the fire," said Marn. "If we anger him, he will bring the Mountain's wrath down upon our families."

"We are already dead," said Jaz. "Our families have mourned us. Our sacrifice keeps them safe."

"That's it, then?" said Rose. "You just give up?"

"It's the only way," said Jaz wearily.

"Well, I'm not having it." She moved around the cage to the side nearest the crying. Through the bars she could just see a mounded form shivering on the floor. "What's your name?" she called.

The shadow moved; a slender figure sat up and looked at her. Tears glistened on dusky cheeks. "Grey," a boy's voice choked.

"Don't be frightened, Grey," said Rose. "My friend the Doctor will come for us. You'll see." She looked toward Marn and Jaz, invisible still. "He's going to save us all."

 

"And who are you, Doctor, that I should fear your wrath so? Are you greater than the spirit of the Mountain?"

"I've given you my name. Why don't you give me yours?"

"I am the Androgyne," the figure said. "I am keeper of this place, and servant of the children of the Mountain. I am their guide through the long night."

"And what about this mountain? What makes it so special?"

The androgyne's thin lips smiled. "Come, Doctor, and I will introduce you to the Mountain."

 

"In ancient times she breathed great fire," the Androgyne said as they stood on a balcony overlooking the fleecy slope. "The people of the valleys lived their lives in fear. Then, some centuries ago, she took pity on humankind and withdrew into sleep. We thrived upon her slopes. The temple was built, and the first Androgyne took up the mantle of guardianship, to watch for her displeasure.

"One Winter's Night many years ago, a man came into the village. He called himself the Winter King, and demanded from us one male and one female youth, in the first bloom of beauty. I was a child at the time, a servant of the Androgyne my mentor. The Mountain showed no signs of stirring; my mentor smiled at the stranger's demands, and he went away.

"That night the Mountain woke. Her rage ravaged the village. Liquid fire burned families in their homes; poisoned air choked the life from those who battled her flames. The valley was buried in ash, and black mud filled the streams. Only a handful of my people survived. My mentor was among the many dead, and so I became the Androgyne.

"In time we rebuilt our village. In time, the moons aligned and it was Winter's Night again. We planned the greatest Festival we could envision, to honor the Mountain's dead and to celebrate our rebirth. But in the last days of our undertaking, the stranger returned. Overnight he built himself a palace in the High Hills. And on the night, on Winter's Night, a pair of youths vanished from the festival. A boy and girl, each in the first bloom of beauty. 

"I did nothing. The Mountain kept her peace."

"For all these years," the Doctor murmured. He gazed up at the peak, bathed in tranquil moonlight, and felt the shifting of the slope beneath his feet.

The Androgyne nodded. "Once I dreamed that he would pass on, that his curse would leave our village. Instead, the Mountain has graced him with a son, while no androgyne has been born here in my lifetime. I will die the last of my kind, and there will be none to serve the children of the mountain."

"Well," said the Doctor, "we'll just see about that."

 

The rising crescent moon peered in through a narrow window overhead, illuminating Rose's prison. The room was a kind of cellar, its earthen ceiling supported with wooden beams, its walls cut out of the frozen ground. The little window and three more like it were barred against escape. At the far end of the room, low wooden steps led upwards and out of sight.

Rose turned her attention to her fellow prisoners. Grey, she saw, was the curly-haired boy she had danced with at the festival. He crouched against the bars between them, still wearing his red woolen festival scarf and lumpy handmade sweater. She had guessed him to be about her own age, but in the dark, with tears on his cheeks, he seemed much younger.

Against the opposite wall Marn and Jaz were chained by shackles at their throats. Each wore only a tunic of rough sacking, and they huddled together against the chill. Jaz's fine straight hair fell into her eyes; her bronzed cheeks were pinched and gaunt. Marn was darker, with a powerful, stocky body, but the long muscles of his arms and legs were knotted and bent, and his face was lined with pain. Rose swallowed her rising dread.

"Are there other slaves here, or just you?"

"There were others," said Jaz. "The Winter King has been taking sacrifices since my grandmother was young."

"Where are they?"

"Dead," said Marn.

"All of them?" asked Rose with incredulity.

"Some fall victim to cold or illness," said Jaz. "But most to the Machine."

"What machine? What does it do?"

Marn gestured to his wasted legs. "It extracts life," he said miserably.

"The old man is diseased," said Jaz. "His body fails him. He takes strength from the young in order to live."

"He grows sicker every season," said Marn, "and still we die."

"Marn is strong," said Jaz. "He has lasted longer than any before him. But he won't last forever." Chain clinked as she took his hand in hers. "Then it will be my turn. And then yours."

Rose stood and began to pace, an unconscious imitation of the Doctor. "There's got to be a way out."

"There isn't," said Jaz. "Not without bringing death upon our families."

Huddled in his corner, Grey began again to cry. Rose looked up at the moon through the window.

"Come on, Doctor," she murmured. "Where are you?"

 

The Doctor rapped sharply on the heavy wooden door. Cold bit at his knuckles, and his breath made clouds in the air. The twin moons drifted high overhead. He knocked again. Heavy footsteps moved inside the house; the door opened, and a metal face peered out. Servos whirred and clicked behind electronic eyes. The head cocked with a rusty scrape.

"Hello!" The Doctor whipped out his psychic paper and waved it in the robot's face. "Surprise robot inspection, so sorry to interrupt your evening, but you know, if we didn't it wouldn't be a surprise. Would it? Promise not to take up too much of your time." He ducked in under the robot's arm. "First question, how many sentient metal life forms occupy this domicile?"

Gears creaked in the robot's head. "Twelve," it rasped.

"And how about sentient non-metal life forms?"

More creaking. Electronic eyes dimmed and brightened.

"Acknowledged as well as unacknowledged if you please," the Doctor added.

"Six," the robot answered.

"Of those six, how many are ambulatory?"

The gears scraped again. "Zero."

"Zero, eh? And the twelve metal forms? How many of those?"

"Twelve."

"I see. Individual or central processing?"

"Central."

"Very well. Just a few more questions, if you don't mind. Blue cheese seventeen swell velvet?"

The robot paused. Gears scraped and servos whirred. Something went softly clunk.

"Does not compute."

"It's a simple enough question," the Doctor sighed. "Seventeen swell velvet? Or mouse steady green pi wheelchair?"

A servo whine built up in pitch until it was beyond hearing. Gears clunked and groaned. The robot began to sway.

"Cosine indigo spam chill monopoly?"

The electronic eyes went out. The robot fell, stiff as a mannequin, and crashed to the floor. Something pinged past the Doctor's feet. He stepped over the senseless robot and shut the door.

"Don't mind me," he murmured. "Just going to have a look around."

 

The crash reverberated through the cellar like thunder. A rain of dirt fell from the ceiling. "What was that?" Grey squeaked.

The moon had left the window and the room was dark. Rose heard the rattle of chain.

"The metal folk stumble sometimes," said Jaz. "It makes an awful noise."

Rose peered up at the patch of ceiling above her, brushing away the dust as it fell in her eyes. "What's up there?"

"That's the front of the house," said Jaz. 

"What's the floor made of?" Rose put one foot on the cage's crossbar and pulled herself up. Clinging to the bars with one hand, she prodded at the earthen ceiling. It crumbled in her hand.

"There's wood panels laid down," said Jaz. "The Winter King is a wealthy man."

A cascade of dirt fell in Rose's face. She coughed and choked and wiped her streaming eyes on her sleeve. More and more dirt fell away, and a thin ray of yellow light pierced the darkness. Rose squinted through the gap.

"By the Mountain," Jaz breathed. "No wonder he chose you."

Rose looked toward her, purple splotches dancing in her eyes. "What?"

"I danced with her," said Grey proudly. "Gran said she'd bring me luck."

Marn snorted. "Some luck."

"Shut up," said Jaz. "Your hair," she said to Rose. "I've never seen any like it."

"It's just hair," said Rose.

"It's sunlight," said Jaz. "In winter when the nights are long, the sun is treasured above all else. The Winter King must crave your blood."

With a shudder Rose peered upwards through the dust. She had cleared a patch of ceiling as wide as her shoulders. Bands of light outlined the narrow floorboards above. She worked her finger through a knothole and pulled.

The thin board snapped in her hand.

"I can get out," she breathed.

"Don't," said Jaz. "I beg you. For the sake of our families -"

"You'll murder them all," said Marn.

Rose looked at them. The light from above reflected in their terrified eyes.

"That won't happen," said Rose. "I'll find the Doctor, and we'll stop this Winter King. I promise. Okay?"

There was no answer. Rose broke the rest of the boards and pulled herself up through the hole.

 

The house was large and spacious, room after room filled with fine furniture, artwork, and books. Here and there the Doctor spotted another disabled robot: one bent over the back of a plush sofa, another propped in a broom closet, a third face down in the bath. Completing a circuit of the ground floor, he found the stairs and cautiously ascended.

The upper floor was richly carpeted, and his steps made no sound. His sharp ears picked out two distinct sets of breathing noises. Nearest was a child's, light and delicate. The Doctor peered through a part-open doorway. A small boy, five or six years old, lay splayed atop a heap of blankets on the floor. Dark curls spilled across his pillow. One arm clutched a plush animal - a ratigast, the Doctor thought, a horned and hairy lagomorph common throughout the Ceta system. Quietly he shut the door and continued along the hallway.

The second set of breathing noises came from further down the hall. The sleeper snored and choked, tossing and turning in his sleep. The Doctor listened, considering a peek inside; then a light caught his eye, a blue glow shining from beneath a door at the end of the hallway. He pressed his ear to that door, and was greeted with a complex electronic hum.

"Gotcha," he whispered. The door was locked, but his sonic screwdriver had it open in an instant. He stepped into the blue glow. A bank of computers faced him, their sleeping screens the source of the room's color, activity lights blinking green and white. A series of red lights along one panel turned yellow and then green as he watched; and then he heard the scream.

 

Rose lay sprawled across the entryway, a metal hand closed hard around her ankle. Tears of frustration stung her eyes at the promptness of her failure; she kicked and struggled, but the robot was unshakeable. Then a familiar brown coat swept by: the Doctor knelt over the robot, pried open its head and scrambled its brains with his sonic screwdriver. The metal hand grasped and spasmed and finally let her go.

"Doctor!" Rose scrambled to her feet. "What kept you?"

"We've got to get out of here," he said. "There's a dozen of those things, all waking up. This thing isn't a weapon, you know." He flipped the screwdriver into the air and caught it in his pocket.

"But the others," said Rose. "In the cellar." She pointed to the hole she had made. The Doctor dropped to his belly and poked his head through. Metal feet clumped toward them across the wooden floor. "Be right down," the Doctor called. Jumping up he grabbed Rose's hand and pulled her out the door, just as a second robot seized the air where she had been.

"Where are we going?" she gasped. The cold was much worse outside; it cut through her thin clothes as if they were nothing. Her lungs hurt to breathe it.

"This way," said the Doctor, dashing around the side of the house. "Those steps come out somewhere over here." Screwdriver in hand once more, he jimmied open a window. "We'll have to be quick," he said. "Even those robots will catch on eventually."

Rose stepped into his linked hands and launched herself through the window. The Doctor scrambled through after her. "Do you see it?"

"No," she murmured. "Yes! It's locked."

The thick wooden door was bolted, chained, and padlocked. The Doctor set to work with his screwdriver.

"What's he keeping down here? Wild animals?"

"People, Doctor. He's experimenting on them or something. Torturing them."

The Doctor stared at her. His face darkened; the look she well knew meant that someone was in trouble. Then he returned to work on the locks.

 

"You came back!" said Jaz in awe.

"What do you take me for?" said Rose. "This is the Doctor."

"Hello!" The Doctor waved with one hand while unlocking Grey's cage with the other. Then he turned to Jaz. She held her hair out of the way as he worked on the shackle at her neck, and her eyes never left his face. When she was free he helped her to her feet and turned to Marn.

"Stay away from me," Marn growled.

"I'm here to help," said the Doctor. "I've come to return you to your family."

"My family?" He looked up, rage blazing in his eyes. "You've murdered my family. You've doomed them all!"

"Let me help you," said the Doctor. "I know what he's doing to you. I can stop it."

With a sigh Marn bent his head. The Doctor unlocked the shackle. It clattered to the ground at Marn's knees.

"Isn't that better?" the Doctor said. "Come on now. We've got to go."

Marn staggered to his feet, hauled back and punched him. Rose shrieked as the Doctor fell, and Marn crouched in front of the steps like an angry tiger.

"Doctor. Doctor!" Rose knelt over her friend's unresponsive form. "Marn, what are you doing? We've got to get out of here!"

"We'll stay here and hope a beating is all we get. I won't let you kill our people!"

"Wake up, you cream puff," said Rose to the Doctor. "My mum hit you harder than that."

"She never did," he mumbled, struggling to sit up.

"He's not going to let us out," she said.

"Is that right?" He looked at Marn with one eyebrow raised. Marn glowered.

"This Winter King, whoever he is," said Rose, "he threatened to destroy the village if they escape."

"He controls the Mountain," said Jaz.

"Does he?" said the Doctor. He drew a fist-sized clump of circuits and wires from his pocket and tossed it in the air. "Not anymore."

 

"Wait," said Jaz. "Where's Marn?"

Five of them had left the house, trudging through knee-deep snow with the Doctor's screwdriver lighting their way. Now they were four. The Doctor ran back along their path, his light darting among the drifts. Rose watched through frosted lashes.

"What is it?" she asked. She felt terribly cold and weary, and wanted nothing more than to lie down in the soft snow and sleep.

"No sign of him," said the Doctor.

Rose looked at Jaz. "Do you think he went back?"

Jaz shook her head. "I'm afraid he went to the Mountain," she said. "Before he was Chosen, his strength was his pride and the pride of his family. Without it, I'm afraid he wants to die."

"Then we'd better hurry," said the Doctor.

"I can't." Jaz held out one hand. Her fingers were blue with cold, nails rimmed with frost. "I'll never make it to the Mountain."

The Doctor shrugged out of his coat and draped it across her shoulders. "You two get back to the village," he said. "Rose and I will go after Marn."

"Thank you." Tears like snowflakes dusted her cheeks. 

"Look after her, Grey," said Rose. "Make sure she gets home all right."

"I will." The boy stood tall, all grown up again. "Thank you, Rose."

"Go on, now," said the Doctor. "We don't have much time!"

 

"Can you see him yet?"

The Doctor squinted toward the peak, rose-tinted in the first light of dawn. "Just. He's not moving fast, but he's nearly there."

"We'd better hurry."

"Yes indeed. Allons-y!" He plunged ahead through snow past his knees. Rose followed on numb feet, stepping in his footprints where she could, struggling to keep up. The cold stabbed at her lungs as she drew breath. Tears froze her lashes.

"Marn!" the Doctor called. "Marn, wait!"

Marn's dark form lay still on the slope ahead. The Doctor dropped to his knees in the snow beside him. Catching up, Rose found breathing easier as steam spilling from the caldera above warmed the air.

"Is he all right, Doctor?" she gasped.

"Leave me," Marn mumbled. "Let me die."

"We can help you, Marn," said the Doctor.

"Can you take away what he did?"

"The past is done," the Doctor said. "It's over. You're free. In time, you may even heal."

Marn began to weep. Kneeling, Rose took his hand in hers. It felt colder than the snow.

"We've got to get him warm, Doctor," she whispered.

"Come on, Marn," he said. "Let's get you home." 

Together they helped Marn to his feet. His thin tunic was frozen stiff, and frost rimmed his eyes and mouth. The Doctor slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped him in it.

"It's a bit brisk, isn't it? We'd best be quick."

Marn smiled, the first smile Rose had seen on him. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"You, Marn, are unique," the Doctor said. "The only one of you there is. That's worth something, isn't it?"

"How touching," a voice rasped. Rose looked up with a start. Blocking their way down the mountain was an old man in a hoverchair, surrounded by robots. A scarf hid most of his swarthy face, and his gray beard brushed his knees. Yellow eyes leered beneath a greasy fringe.

"You have something of mine, I think."

Marn stumbled back and fell in the snow. Rose crouched protectively beside him.

"This is over," the Doctor said. "It stops now."

"And who are you to say so, stranger?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"The Doctor, hm? Healer, wise man? Leechmaster?" The old man cackled. "Begone from this place, Doctor, lest the people feel my wrath."

"No."

"I beg your pardon? I am somewhat hard of hearing of late."

"I said no. It is you who will leave this place."

"I think not."

"This is your last chance. Go now while you still can."

"I grow weary of you, Doctor." He reached into an inner pocket and withdrew a small black box. "Tis well enough. It's been ages since I've watched a village burn."

With a broad smirk he pressed a button on the black box. Marn seized Rose's hand. She listened for the rumble of an earthquake, but nothing happened. The old man frowned.

"That has never happened before."

The Doctor leaned over Marn and took the lump of wire from the pocket of his jacket. "I picked up your signal back at the house. Your little toy doesn't work anymore."

"Meddler!" the old man roared. "The mountain will receive its sacrifice. Get them!"

The robots moved forward, eight of them advancing in eerie lock-step over the snow. Rose held tight to Marn. The Doctor stood before them, adjusting the settings on his screwdriver.

"Come on," he murmured. "Come on! Must be something you can do."

The robots drew closer. One reached for the Doctor; he dodged it nimbly. Rose scrambled to her feet and tugged Marn up behind her. 

"Come on! We can still outrun them!"

"I can't," said Marn, floundering. "Go, save yourselves!"

"We're not leaving you," she said. She knelt beside him in the snow and wrapped both arms around him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Me too."

"Stop!" The old man's strangled shout halted the robots. Rose looked up slowly.

A crowd gathered on the mountain's slope, dozens of dark faces, bright scarves, and colorful hats. One woman held a kitchen knife to the old man's throat. The robots stood frozen.

"Come on," said the Doctor. "Get away from them."

Rose and Marn scrambled out from the forest of reaching arms. A voice called from the crowd; a stocky gray-haired woman burst from the sea of faces and barreled toward them across the snow.

"Mama," Marn sobbed.

The woman caught him in her arms, weeping. Behind her came a dark, broad-shouldered man, and a lanky teenage girl in a bright green scarf. They wrapped Marn in their collective warmth, murmuring gratitude.

The woman with the knife pressed her blade against the old man's throat. "Send your robots to the mountain," she said.

"I won't."

"You think I fear to kill you?" she shrieked. "You took my sister, and then you took my son. Too long have I stood by, waiting for another to shed your blood."

The old man began to sweat. "Forward," he croaked. "Over the rim with you."

The robots creaked to life, moving gracelessly through the deep snow. One by one they vanished over the rim of the crater. Black smoke belched upward from the mountain. The crowd cheered.

"There are still four left," the Doctor said.

"Two are stranded in the snow," the old man growled. "They're useless. The other two guard my son."

"Two we can manage," the woman said. "You will learn what it is to fear for your child."

"The boy is innocent," the Doctor said. "You won't harm him."

The woman glowered. "Of course not. The boy is born of a slave, murdered upon his weaning. He has never known a mother's love."

"He will, now, though," the Doctor smiled.

The woman's eyes brimmed with tears. "He will. And thanks to you, stranger, my own son lives and is unharmed. Grey will look after his young cousin." She looked at Rose. "My mother said you'd bring us luck. This night I doubted her. Never again."

Rose squirmed. "Thanks."

"What of the old man?" asked someone gruffly.

"Give him to the mountain!" called a voice in the crowd. Cheers answered the cry, and the crowd surged forward. The Doctor leaped toward them with his hands in the air.

"He isn't worth it," he shouted. "Don't let him make murderers of you all!"

"After what he's done?" a girl cried. 

"If you kill him you will live with that forever. Is that what you want?"

The girl looked at the ground.

"What would have have us do, then, stranger?" Grey's mother asked.

"Take him to the temple," the Doctor said. "I'll have a word with the Androgyne." 

 

Rose held her frozen hands over the steaming altar, breathing deeply of the sultry air. Her skin prickled with warmth and her eyes streamed. Behind her the Doctor and the Androgyne stood over the old man in his chair.

"What is your name?" asked the Androgyne gently.

"Orgelin," the old man croaked.

"Why did you come to our village?"

Orgelin scowled and did not answer.

"He's dying," said the Doctor. "Didn't want to die in prison."

"What do you know of it?" the old man spat.

"I had a good look at the equipment in your spare room," he said. "I've been to Ceta Prime. Oh, years ago, before your time, I'm sure. Or possibly after." He frowned. "Never mind. The point is, there's a lot of trivia rattling around in this old head, particularly when it comes to outlawed technology."

Orgelin glowered silently.

"And I've seen the effects of Moff-Turner Syndrome before too. It strikes its victims in the prime of life. First the fingers and toes go numb, the tips of the ears. Eventually the body becomes insensate, useless; then, slowly, the brain begins to die. Cold weather and dry air can slow the progress of the disease, but only for so long. And nothing can stop it."

"I wanted to live, Doctor. You begrudge me that?"

"Not at all. But what you did to these people is unforgivable."

The old man snorted his disdain. "These people? Ignorant animals. They supplied me raw materials, subjects for my research." Rage distorted his weathered features. "Do you know what it is, Doctor, not to feel? Not the lightest sensation, neither pleasure nor pain, the touch of a lover, the exhaustion of hard physical work. Yes, Doctor, I used their bodies. Their pain I would have gladly withstood, if only to feel again."

"I believe I understand, Doctor," said the Androgyne. 

"Do you? Well done. You've got me there."

The Androgyne turned to Orgelin. "You wish to feel? Then you shall. Here in my temple the children of the Mountain will speak their pain. You shall know grief, terror, rage, the agony of loss. You will come to regret your wish. And here, warmed by the Mountain you enslaved, you will die."

For a moment there was no sound but the hissing of steam from the altar.

"Well, Rose," said the Doctor brightly. "I think we've done all we can. Back to the TARDIS, hm?"

 

"Rose! Rose!"

A figure raced across the temple's snowy yard, her face nearly hidden by an enormous blue shawl and the heap of brown fabric in her arms.

"Jaz!"

"These are yours," said Jaz. She shook loose the Doctor's coat and suit jacket. "They saved our lives. You have the gratitude of all our families."

"Your families are most welcome," said the Doctor.

Jaz turned to Rose, breathless with delight. "They've rescued the boy from the house, and destroyed the machinery. An homage to the Mountain, look!"

Following her gesture, Rose saw smoke rising beyond the village, its underbelly flickering angry red. "It's burning," she said.

"There will be nothing left. Snow will cover the remains, and we will be free."

"Good." Rose forced a smile. "Congratulations."

"There's more," said Jaz, beaming. "My sister bore a child tonight. Neither boy nor girl, but some of each!"

"An heir to the Androgyne," the Doctor smiled. "Born on Winter's Night. Won't ze be pleased."

"My family is honored," Jaz breathed. "Such fortune in our lifetime. And all due to you!"

She threw her arms around Rose and hugged her forcefully. "When I have a child of my own," she murmured, "it will bear the name of Rose."

"Thank you," said Rose. "I'm honored." Jaz released her, her tear-streaked face aglow. She hugged the Doctor; and then she vanished, leaving Rose and the Doctor alone.

"Whew," said Rose, shivering.

The Doctor dropped his coat around her shoulders. "Now where would you like to go next?"

"Tell me, Doctor," said Rose. "New Orleans. Is it warm?"

"Sweltering."

"Flat?"

"Not a mountain in sight."

"Any snow?"

"Not a flake. Well, not until the Third Great Ice Age at least. But that's centuries away. Millennia even. Er." He frowned. "We almost certainly won't land there. Probably."

"Well, Doctor," said Rose. "Let's give Mardis Gras another try, shall we?"

The Doctor grinned. "Allons-y!"


End file.
